


To Touch the Fire In the Sound

by warmommy



Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: Clandestine Affairs, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 03:40:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13332738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmommy/pseuds/warmommy
Summary: Tumblr request fill: Fluff prompts: wearing their clothes, too early, warmth with Hugo Stiglitz





	To Touch the Fire In the Sound

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find this and a lot more at my tumblr, warmommy.tumblr.com!

Hugo jumped at the loud, rhythmic banging outside his hotel room door, shouted in slurred German for whoever it was go to away, and pulled the blankets back over his head. With his eyes closed again, he hurtled back towards the sweet embrace of sleep, but his conscious mind was tugging towards something else.

It never stopped surprising him, when he woke up with you in his arms. Your body was so  _warm_ , and it was so cold in this damn room. He pressed his chest flat against your back, and, feeling you stir, kissed you behind the ear. “ _Noch nicht, meine Liebe. Es ist zu früh. Sie können warten_.”

You yawned. “I’m pretty sure that was Aldo. He don’t need to know that I’m here.”

Hugo made a noise, a combination of a groan and a growl. He hated being a secret, no matter the pragmatism. “Who gives a fuck? Don’t go away. I won’t let you.”

“Hm…” You smirked sleepily when you felt his hand come up and brush over your nipple. “I can be tempted to stay in bed for a little while.”

“You’re going to make me pick between half an hour of sleep and sex? Aren’t there rules against this?” He groaned again.

You giggled. “What rules? From what?”

“The rules of…war? I don’t know, you fucking Americans.” Hugo continued pawing at you and your chest until you got out of the bed. “What are you doing? Why?”

“Awww. My sweet murder baby.” 

He threw a pillow at you. You dodged it and laughed again.

“I have a plan,” you said, picking up his discarded shirt from the floor and pulling it on. Your fingers moved quick over the buttons. “I’ll go and see what he wanted and then I’ll come back, climb on top of you, and wake you back up.”

“You are the  _kindest_ , most loving woman I have ever met.” Hugo looked longingly at you nonetheless. “And don’t take off the shirt when you come back.”

Wearing only the much-too-large faded German issue, you took a few dancing steps back towards the bed and kissed your lover on top of his head. “I’ll return soon, Hengst.”

The door opened a sliver and closed, and he was alone. Hugo Stiglitz chuckled softly to himself, made a mental note to make you promise not to call him a ‘sweet murder baby’ to anyone else, and fell back to sleep, face down in your pillow.


End file.
